Earthquake
by Xenitha
Summary: International Rescue is called out on Halloween to rescue people trapped in a 'haunted' house collapsed by an earthquake. Scott and Virgil don't believe in ghosts. The ghosts don't care what they believe. Loose sequel to "Kidnap" but can stand alone.
1. Chapter 1

This is a sequel to Kidnap but can stand on its own. The Winchester Mystery House really does exist and I've been there multiple times. If you'd like to look the place over, go here: .

If you've ever seen the movie/novel Rose Red by Stephen King, he based it on this house.

TBTBTBTBTBTBTBTB 

**October 31**

**Halloween**

"Do you ever miss the Halloweens back home in Kansas?" Virgil asked wistfully," sipping his coffee. The television was tuned to a one of Scott's favorite horror movies, an ancient classic "Young Frankenstein."

"You mean dressing up and extorting candy from the neighbors?" Scott adjusted his sneaker-clad feet on the coffee table and replied. "Yeah, it was fun. Trouble with living on an island, we don't even get trick or treaters," Scott fumbled for his own cup, then remembered and used his right hand. His left was still numb in spots although he did his exercises faithfully.

"Or invited to Halloween parties," Virgil replied. "Alan and Gordon won't be back from the mainland until tomorrow morning at the earliest."

"Aw, c'mon, Virg," Scott said with a smile. "Their crowd is too young for us anyway. You know you can't stand the music they play at their parties. Besides, Dad said somebody had to be on-call in case a rescue came up and it might as well be us."

"Whoops! Speak of the devil," Virgil said and nodded at the light blinking on the wall.

"Good! I've seen this movie a dozen times anyway," Scott said, put down his cup and ran for the lounge with Virgil close behind.

In the lounge, their father was already talking with the lit portrait of John on Thunderbird 5.

"Hey, John!" Virgil waved at his brother. "What have you got for us?"

"There's been a major earthquake in California," their father began.

"So what else is new, Dad?" Scott plunked down into one the lounge chairs. "Do you want us to ferry supplies or workers? Los Angeles or San Francisco?"

Jeff shook his head. "No, this isn't on the San Andreas fault. A less well-known fault line, the Calaveras Fault in San Jose has caused an 8.0 quake, measured on the Richter scale. Silicon Valley has been pretty much destroyed but local authorities are handling it pretty well."

"Then why us, Dad?" Virgil asked.

"There's an older building that's partially collapsed with about fifteen people trapped inside. The locals don't have the manpower to get them out; the house is about two hundred years old and is a local attraction called…"Jeff looked at his notepad. "the Winchester Mystery House."

"Yeah, what's so special about it?" asked Scott curiously.

"You'd better let John fill you in on the way," Jeff replied, smiling a bit. "Off you go!"

Scott shrugged and went to his wall-lamp gantry to Thunderbird One. Once he was airborne, he'd know more.

**One Hour Later**

"You have got to be kidding!" Scott exclaimed to his brothers. "Virg, are you getting this?"

"I hear you both. John just said we're going to a haunted house," Virgil's calm voice came over the radio.

"John, you've been on that space station too long. That's all I have to say," Scott said. "In what way is this old house supposed to be haunted? And how is that relevant to our rescue?"

They could hear the grin in his brother's voice. "Well, it is Halloween after all. And one of the trapped people is a famous medium, Mary Kessler, and her camera crew. They're shooting a segment for Terri Kawamura's talk show. She's there too, I understand."

"Oh, now that is just all I need," sputtered Scott. "That woman had it in for me last year and wanted nothing but to see me hang. Dammit, now I'm gonna have to wear one of those fabric masks Brains invented."

"No, that's not quite right," said Virgil's calm voice. "She wanted to hang the son of Jefferson Tracy. She never got a good look at you. The photos they showed on tv were all years out of date."

"And they didn't look like you anyway," John added. "Remember how we doctored all the old photos on file of the family when we started International Rescue? Well, hers came from a batch I worked on personally. No way would she recognize you. I already discussed it with Dad; he doesn't see a problem."

Scott grumbled a bit under his breath. "Okay, okay, I don't see that we have a choice anyway. Alan and Gordon are at their party, so we're it in any case. Now tell me some more about this 'haunted' house."

He could tell that John's grin had gotten even wider. "Well, it has somewhere around 160 rooms, give or take a secret passage or two. The original owner, Sarah Winchester, had builders working on it day and night for 38 years."

"Okay," Virgil interrupted. "Why? Big family?"

"Oh no," John said. "No family, they were pretty much all dead. Her husband had been the heir to the Winchester rifle fortune before he died. She built the house to house the spirits of all those killed by the Winchester rifle. She was told that when she stopped building, she'd die."

Scott put Thunderbird One on autopilot and scrubbed his face with his hands. "And they called us why?"

"Like I said. There are people trapped somewhere in the house. When the quake hit, part of it collapsed and the tour guide died under a pile of rubble. She was the only one who knew the house. The rest of the people have no idea where in the house they are, but they can't get out of the room they're in. They managed to call out before their cell phones died."

"And the locals are dealing with the rest of the quake damage," Virgil added. "So they called us."

"Could be worse," said John. "There could be mud." He waited for that to sink in, then said, "I'm downloading the last known house plans to both of you. They, um…aren't very up to date. Apparently Mrs. Winchester never had any real building plans and there are a variety of secret passages and rooms that nobody's seen in a hundred years."

"Why am I not surprised?" said Scott. "All right, anything else we need to know? Are there vampires? Zombies? And is Gordon in on this?"

"Not that I'm aware of," John said promptly. "And it's no joke! Honest."

**San Jose, California**

**October 31**

**9 P.M. P.S.T.**

Thunderbird One set down smoothly on the cracked tarmac of the parking lot. Scott had taken the precaution of turning on TB-1's exterior lights, so he was able to see a bit to the area and hopefully could guide Virgil in.

The quake had done a lot of damage. He could see houses and buildings fallen in, and the street lights were all dark. Fortunately, there was a police car waiting for him. A man with a flash light approached him as he climbed out of his Thunderbird.

"Hello! You're International Rescue?" the cop approached Scott and reached out to shake his hand. "I'm Jim Smith with the San Jose P.D., I'm here to give you a bit of guidance and crowd control."

"Crowd control?" Scott looked around the dark, empty parking lot.

"It's Halloween, even though there's been a quake. There's been looting and an increase in crime and vandalism since the power went out. I'm here to guard your vehicle." The cop looked longingly at Thunderbird One. "She's a beauty."

Scott grinned. "Thanks, I appreciate the help. I do have some security alarms already on her, but I won't turn down an extra pair of eyes on her." He looked around. "So where is the house?"

The cop gestured, then pointed with his high-powered flash-light. "Right behind us."

Scott saw a huge pile of a building sprawling over the lot behind him. It had multiple stories, he counted four and it was huge. "How big is this place?" he asked.

"I hear that there are three miles worth of corridors inside," Smith replied. "And that's just about the ground. There are also basements underneath, including some they've never found." The cop ran his flash light over the front of the house. "They say it's haunted, you know. One of the trapped people is a famous medium; maybe one of the ghosts got mad at her and caused the earthquake!"

Scott just smiled. "We're just here to rescue the trapped people. I promise we'll leave the ghosts alone."

He heard the familiar sound of Thunderbird Two's engines and saw with gratitude that Virgil had made it to the danger zone. Delicately, Virg set his 'bird down next to Thunderbird One.

"Well, since Thunderbird Two is here, we can get started," Scott said confidently. "I'm sure this will be much less complicated than it seems." And then I can go home.


	2. Chapter 2

Earthquake Chapter 2

Leaving the cop outside, Scott and Virgil went into Thunderbird Two to don protective gear. When they'd first started International Rescue, they'd been casual about helmets and basic protective gear and that had, over time, resulted in injuries. Now none of the brothers would consider entering a rickety building or unstable tunnel without a helmet, padded jacket and gloves, albeit in International Rescue colors.

Scott reached into his locker and shrugged on his jacket and helmet, then looked for his gloves. "Damn!" he said.

Virgil, just pulling on his leather gauntlets, looked over at his older brother. "What is it, Scott?"

Scott pulled a pair of black gloves out of the locker. "Gordon's been here." He turned the gloves over so that Virgil could see the glow in the dark bones painted on them, giving the impression of a pair of skeletal hands for whoever wore them.

Virgil grinned. "Are your regular pair in there? No? Well, why don't you try Gordon's or Alan's gloves."

Scott tried on both pairs. "Nope, they're too small. Guess I'm stuck with the black pair. I suppose they're padded enough, but I think they look ridiculous!"

Virgil fastened the last closure on his jacket and stood up. "Well, you can take it up with Gordon when we're done here. You got the tools? I have the medical gear." He peered more closely at his grumpy brother. "C'mon, Scott," Virgil said. "It's a just a harmless joke. You really seem down this trip."

Scott just shook his head and followed his younger brother down the gangway back to the parking lot. As the eldest brother, Scott had the responsibility to make sure that all of International Rescue got home safe and uninjured. He'd be having a talk with Gordon later about his tampering with safety gear. Trouble was, Virg was right. He was in a bad mood tonight.

He stopped at the top of Thunderbird Two's exit ramp and surveyed what he could see of the area. He'd had a bad feeling from the moment the call came in; in the service he'd learned not to disregard this internal nagging. Of course, he wasn't going to call off the rescue just because he had a 'bad feeling'. And he certainly wasn't going to tell Virgil. He didn't want to be the crazy Tracy brother. That didn't mean he wouldn't be wary, though.

"Hey, Scott, you coming?" Virgil called from the base of the ramp. Scott nodded silently and made his way to his brother. "Are you sure you don't want to bring the high-powered flashlights?" He held up an atomic-battery powered lantern in his hand. "These things are pretty bulky."

"Yeah, but they'll cast a circle of light around us. Might be useful inside a big building," Virgil said, turning on his own lantern. "So, you saw the plans, where do we go?"

The cop had retreated back to his squad car, so Scott guessed they were on their own. He squinted into the light drizzle that had started, and pointed ahead.

"The plans show an entrance through this gate," Scott raised his lantern overhead. "Since the Visitor's Center collapsed, I guess we can make our way through the gardens to the front door. We'd better make a communications check before we go in." He raised his wrist and spoke into is. "Thunderbird Five from Thunderbird One…"

"Yes, Scott," John appeared on the watch's screen. "How is it going?"

"Virgil and I are ready to enter the house. It's dark out here, but I think this rescue will be pretty straightforward," Scott replied. "We'll check in again in about an hour."

"FAB," John replied. "And watch out for the haunts!"

Scott frowned and opened the wrought iron gate into the gardens. The path led directly to the mansion's front door, a pair of richly carved slabs of wood with inset stained glass windows. Locked, of course. To avoid damaging the door, Virgil used a mini-laser cutter to cut the lock.

Scott pushed the door and it slowly creaked open. A rush of cold air hit them in the face, smelling strongly of age and old mildew.

"Wow! They weren't joking when they said this place was old," Virgil muttered. "I don't suppose we're lucky enough that the interior lights work."

"No," Scott said. "The house has never really been wired for power or heat since the original generator system in 1915. Well, here goes nothing." He held up his lantern and stepped forward into the house. He was immediately aware of a sense of vastness; hundreds of dark, empty rooms pressing against him. He heard the floorboards creak behind him as Virgil moved next to him with his lantern as well.

"What do you think?" Virgil asked, his voice echoing slightly. "Should we go up the stairs or try the side hallway?"

Scott looked up, seeing a flight of stairs going up into darkness. At least there weren't any cobwebs or spiders. By all accounts, this place was well-maintained by its owners. "Let's try the ground floor first and maybe do a scan with the infrared. Hello! Is anybody there? Can you hear us?"

They both stopped and listened for any voices in reply but heard nothing. "Okay, ground floor it is," said Virgil uneasily.

They moved to the left through some decorative pocket doors, passing a dining room with parquet floors. "Pretty," murmured Virgil. "And look at that stained glass…"

"Easy, Virg," Scott warned. "We're supposed to be here on a rescue, not for art appreciation. Let's try the infrared and see if we can spot any live people."

Virgil nodded and pulled out the meter and flipped it on. It flickered, then died. "What the…just a minute, Scott," Virgil said, checking it. "The indicator says that the battery's drained. I checked it before we left base. This thing should be fully charged!"

"Let me try," Scott said and gave it a hearty 'thwap' against the wall (his standard fix for recalcitrant machinery). "No good. Okay, I guess no infrared this trip. Did you get any reading before it died?"

"No, nothing," said Virgil, staring at the dead machine in his hand. Then he tucked it into his backpack. "Okay, let's move out then."

Scott nodded and the two held their lanterns overhead and kept walking. The next room was a ballroom, covered with a decorated parquet floor. Virgil wandered over to twin stained glass windows over the fireplace mantel. "Wide unclasp the tables of their thoughts," he read on one window, then the next. "These same thoughts people this little world." He paused, thinking. "These come from two different Shakespeare plays..I wonder what they mean?"

"Virg, I don't care if they're filthy limericks, we need to get…What the…!" A loud rumbling interrupted Scott and the floor began to shake. "Virg! Aftershock! Run for cover!" Scott shouted.

Virgil was already running and ducking into the doorway when he heard an almighty crash behind him. He whirled around, safe in his doorway to see a cloud of dust in the center of the room. He held up his lantern and watched as the dust cleared. He saw that the chandelier had fallen from the ceiling onto the center of the parquet floor.

He didn't see Scott. Where was Scott? "Scott! Where are you? Are you all right? Scott!" Virgil ran forward shouting at the top of his lungs, holding up his lantern overhead. He saw a crumpled blue form off to one side and all but skidded on the floor to his brother's side.

Virgil set the lantern down on the floor and reached for a pulse. Alive, thank God. "Scott?" he said gently while pushing an arm of the chandelier off Scott's shoulder and head. He ran a hand over a bump forming on his brother's forehead as Scott began groaning.

"Damn…my head hurts.." Blue eyes opened and fixed blearily on brown. "Virg, tell me the chandelier didn't just hit me."

Virgil smiled with relief. "Okay, I won't tell you, but you got hit pretty good. You okay? Double vision? Nausea?"

"Naw, none of that," Scott replied. And I wouldn't tell you if I did, he added quietly. You are not going into this house by yourself, little brother. "Help me up?"

Virgil frowned but gave him a hand up. Scott got himself to his feet readily enough, then leaned unsteadily over to pick up his pack and lantern.

"Don't you think you should go back to Two and rest..?" Virgil began.

"No," Scott said shortly. "Any other damage from that aftershock you can see?"

Virgil looked around, but kept an eye on his brother. "Looks clear enough to me."

"Come on, we need to keep going." With a grunt, Scott levered the pack onto his shoulder and led the way down the hallway

They continued calling out to the trapped tourists every few minutes, but the sound echoed back in the dark silence of the house.

They began seeing debris now. Whole beams had come down along with piles of lumber. Scott picked his way through a partially blocked hallway and reached out a hand to help Virgil over a pile of redwood lathe. "I'm glad we didn't bring the hoverbikes. They never would have made it through here."

"It's amazing just how big this place is," Virgil commented, running a hand over the embossed wallpaper. "And how luxurious it must have been. I think this is Lincrusta wallpaper." He stopped. "Do you hear that?"

They both paused and heard a distant organ playing.

"There was an organ in that ballroom," Virgil said, looking over his shoulder.

"And we just had an aftershock. There was probably air still in the bellows.." Scott replied.

Scott just sighed and picked his way forward. "Let's try this door, Virg." He opened it and they found themselves in a room filled with counters and sinks. "Looks like an old kitchen. Nobody here, either." Scott stopped and sniffed the air. "Okay, Virg, maybe I'm hungry or maybe I'm crazy but…"

"You smell it too?" Virgil asked, holding up his lantern and scanning the room. "Grandma's chicken soup?"

"Yeah," said Scott. "I'll grant you, lunch was a long time ago, but this is seriously weird."

"Uh huh," Virgil replied. "Let's keep going. Fast."

They went through another door and found a flight of stairs. Teeny, tiny steps led to the next floor. "All right," Scott said. "This is getting to be like a fun-house at the amusement park. Let's head upstairs." He began climbing and stopped at the turn to call again, then stilled. "Virgil, did you hear that?"

"I dunno, let's try again," Virgil said. "Hello! Is anybody here?"

This time they both heard faint voices calling back from somewhere above them.

"They must be upstairs!" Virgil pushed past his brother and began to run up a flight. Scott hurried after until he heard a loud "Ow!"

"Virgil? What's going on up…there?" Scott came to the step where his brother had stopped. A wooden ceiling blocked off the top of the stairway.

"There's nothing here," said Virgil. "I bumped my head against the ceiling. These stairs don't go anywhere. Let's go back down and try again."

They carefully went back down the staircase and decided to continue down a side hallway. At last, there was another flight of stairs.

The steps were three inches tall.

They exchanged glances until Scott said, "It's unobstructed and it goes up. But if you see an alligator pit or anything, let me know, huh?" Virgil nodded dumbly and they both climbed the steps warily.

At the top they faced another hallway. Scott yelled again and they heard the sounds of voices somewhere ahead. They continued on until they got to t-intersection. And they heard voices from both directions.

"Maybe we should split up, each check out a direction," Virgil began.

"No," said Scott, grabbing his brother's arm. "We stay together. We don't separate inside this place. Ever."

"Scott?" Virgil said anxiously. "You're scaring me."

Scott sighed. "Okay, just call me your crazy big brother, but I don't like the feel of this place. I don't want it to separate us."

"It?" Virgil laughed. "Scott, it's a house. It can't think."

Scott just got a stubborn look on his face.

"Okay, Scott. We'll do it your way. Which way do we go now?"

"This way," Scott pointed down the hallway. "I think the voices were a bit louder in this direction."

They walked down the dark hallway until Virgil stopped, hearing more voices behind them. "Hey, Scott! Do you hear…Scott?" He held his lantern ahead of him where Scott should be but nobody was there.

"Scott! Can you hear me? Where are you?" he yelled down the empty hallway. As he swung the lantern, he noticed it begin to flicker and the light begin to fade.

Eyes wide, Virgil tried to adjust the failing light as it slowly died away. With a final popping noise, the light went away entirely.

Virgil was all alone in the dark.


	3. Chapter 3

**Earthquake Chapter 3**

Virgil squinted. It wasn't quite pitch dark. He rummaged in his pack, found a chemical glow light and activated it. In the green glow he saw Scott, just standing at the end of the hall, surrounded by a black mist.

"Scott?" Virgil moved forward and noticed that his brother's eyes were fixed and glassy, staring at nothing. The black mist swirled around him and wasn't dispersed when Virgil waved a hand through it. The mist stung with cold when he touched it. "Scott? Can you hear me?"

He brought the glow stick close to Scott's staring eyes and couldn't even trigger a blink. Alarmed now, Virgil reached out and pushed his brother over. Scott's rear hit the floor with a thump and yelled out…..

"Hey! Virgil! Virg! Can you hear me?" Virgil blinked and saw Scott standing in front of him holding two lit lanterns. What? No black mist. Virgil looked around him and found that he hadn't moved a step. He gave his brother a bewildered look. "Scott?"

Scott heaved a sigh of relief. "I was worried about you there, Virg," he said, handing Virgil the lantern. "You just sort of…froze..and I couldn't wake you up." Scott held the lantern up to Virgil's face. "Well, your pupils are reacting now. What happened?"

"I, um..I'm not sure," Virgil said. "My lantern went out and then I was alone in the dark and you'd disappeared…" He faltered, looking around, trying to decide what was real.

Scott gave him a sharp look, and decided not to push it. "Okay, well we owe John a check in. It's past time." He raised his watch and spoke into it. "Thunderbird Five, from Scott, do you read me?"

The watch glowed briefly, then the light faded. "Damn! Nothing works in here. How about your watch, Virgil?" They both watched as Virgil tried to activate his watch and failed.

"I don't like this," said Scott. "I don't like this at all. Virg, we're cut off in here and if you're impaired…"

"Scott, I'm not impaired," said Virgil heatedly. "For all we know, you're the one who faded into a trance or something. In any case, we still haven't found those trapped tourists."

"Yeah, if they even exist," Scott said uneasily. "C'mon, let's try these doors."

They took turns opening the hall doors, finding nothing but empty rooms until Scott opened another door that led to a hallway that was blocked with debris. "Hello!" he called. They heard the voices again.

Encouraged, they went down the hallway to the debris blockage.

"Anybody here?" Virgil shouted.

"Yes! We're here! We can't get out!" Yelled a voice back. Scott and Virgil exchanged grins. Finally they were getting somewhere!

"It looks like the ceiling came down," Scott noted, unpacking the portable saw. "If we cut through those heavy beams, we should be able to shift the rest of it. Stand back."

"FAB," said Virgil and backed up a few feet. Scott donned protective goggles and fired up the saw. It worked for a full 30 seconds before it died. "Damn!" Scott said, putting the saw down. "Nothing, but nothing works!"

Virgil sighed. "We'll just have to do it the old fashioned way. By hand." He pulled an axe out of his pack. Scott eyed the axe and shivered a bit, then donned his decorative (thanks Gordon) protective gloves. Virgil caught the look.

"Look, Scott, I'll do the cutting, you do the moving and stacking." Scott nodded gratefully and positioned himself behind and to the side of his brother. As Virgil cut through the debris, Scott removed and stacked it elsewhere.

Virgil stopped when he came to the body. She had been a small woman in life and wore a brown uniform with a name tag that said "Valerie".

Although they had handled bodies before, it was never easy. They carefully freed it from the debris and laid her in the hallway. The coroners men could deal with it later.

"I hope we don't run into any more," said Virgil quietly.

"I couldn't agree with you more," said Scott. "Do you want me to take over the demolition?"

Virgil eyed Scott's left hand and shook his head. "No. It's been a long day already. I'll do it." He swung the axe and they continued to remove pieces of the lumber pile.

Finally they managed to make a hole in the pile big enough for a man to climb through. Scott was first, followed by Virgil.

They found themselves in a large, wood-paneled room lined with tiffany stained glass windows. Half of the coffered ceiling had fallen, destroying several windows, leaving only multi-colored shards on the floor. Fifteen people sat or stood in the limited space remaining.

As Virgil entered the room, a familiar-looking woman came forward and greeted the men.

"Hello! We're so glad to see you! I'm Terri Kawamura!" the attractive Asian woman said cheerily. "You must be International Rescue!"

She was followed by a cameraman with camera, vainly trying to turn the thing on. She looked back at him and frowned. "Batteries are still dead?" He nodded. "Okay, no interview this time I suppose."

Scott kept his face impassive with great effort. This woman had raged a tabloid campaign against him last year, trying to get him jailed for staging his own kidnapping. He could feel his bad hand curling into a fist. Aside from the additional worry it had caused him, his entire family had been a tabloid target.

Virgil shot his brother a look and moved forward to shake hands with the woman. "Hi, I'm Virgil, we're here to get you out. This is Scott. Are there any injured here?"

Both men heaved a sigh of relief when all the tourists shook their heads.

"We're very glad to see you," said Terri. "No, our tour guide was caught when the ceiling fell in. The rest of us managed to get in here before the rest of it came down."

A rather dumpy-looking woman in her fifties moved into the lantern light. "Hello, I'm Mary Kessler. I can't tell you how glad we are to see you two." She shook hands with Virgil, then gave him a sharp look. "I'm pleased to meet you. And your brother," she said, eyeing Scott.

"How…why do you think we're brothers?" asked Scott uneasily.

"The spirits tell me," Mary said to Scott, shaking his hand as well. When she touched him, she paused for a moment and her expression grew even sharper. "I'm a professional medium. We were filming a segment for Terri's show when everything fell in. You're a very interesting young man." She glanced at his hands. "Interesting gloves you have there."

"You could say that," said Scott with a mix of embarrassment and annoyance. He cleared his throat and spoke to the group. "We should get you all out of here before there's another aftershock. "I'll lead you out and Virgil will take up the rear. Okay? Let's go."

Scott made his way back down the hallway and to the pile of debris. Then helped the people through the opening they'd made. Terri tried the camera again, but to her disgust it didn't work.

Once they were all past the barrier, they returned to the larger hallway and looked for the stairs, slowing briefly when they passed the body of the tour guide.

Scott led them down the hallways and stairs as quickly as he could get them to move, feeling an increasing sense of urgency. At last he stood at the ornate front door, hustling the last of the tourists through the door to safety. All that remained inside the house were that obnoxious reporter, her cameraman, the medium, Virgil and himself. He got the cameraman through the door and reached back to grab Terri Kawamura's arm when he felt it again. Another aftershock.

He succeeded in pushing her through the door before the whole damned front of the house fell in. He felt the floor give way and the cold air whistle past his ears as he fell. His last thought before he hit the darkness was "Damn, that's gonna hurt…"

TBTBTBTBTBTBTBTB 

**Tracy Island**

Jeff Tracy sat over his desk, giving the appearance of working. In truth, he did what he always did when his sons were on a rescue—he worried. Day or night made no difference. Until everyone was home and accounted for, the Tracy patriarch didn't sleep.

He pressed a button. "Thunderbird Five from Base. John, have you heard anything?"

John's portrait flared to life. "I'm afraid not, Father. They've missed two time checks now and I haven't been able to raise either Scott or Virgil. The local cop guarding the thunderbirds says nobody has exited the house although he's seen parts of it fall in since they went in." He paused. "And I'm afraid that there was another aftershock a couple of minutes ago, estimated at 7.1 on the Richter Scale."

"That's the equivalent of the Loma Prieta quake last century," Jeff replied anxiously. "Is there any word from news media?"

John began to shake his head, then looked away at another screen. "Wait a minute…." He turned back to face the screen with a bemused expression. "Take a look at this, Father."

The screen cut over to a news report, featuring an attractive Asian woman, standing before a caved-in house front. "…and we barely got out alive, thanks to the courage of those wonderful International Rescue men." She turned to look over her shoulder. "Who are now, alas, trapped inside the ruins of the Winchester Mystery House. My dear friends and rescuers, known only as Scott and Virgil, single-handedly rescued me, my cameraman and twelve other people from this place of devastation. I must now plead with the local and national authorities to rescue these valiant rescuers or surely they will perish!"

Jeff listened stolidly until he couldn't stomach any more.

"Okay, that's enough John," Jeff said. "Recall Alan and Gordon. We'll have to find some way to get them out there." Jeff drummed his fingers on the desk. This sort of eventuality didn't happen that often but when it did it pointed to the need for another thunderbird.

"But Father, flight time in a standard jet is about 5 hours," John said anxiously. "Can't we get them any faster?"

"There might be a way," Jeff said. "It's time International Rescue called in a few favors."

**Two****Hours****Later**

**International Rescue Locker Room**

Although the individual 'birds carried uniforms, International Rescue kept a small locker room adjacent to the thunderbird silo's, housing clean uniforms for the entire complement from Jeff Tracy to Tintin. A more popular part of the locker room was the area with hot showers and facilities for toxic decontamination, since the boys often came in covered with mud, soot and other substances.

"Well, I suppose it only makes sense," Alan commented to Gordon while they donned their uniforms. "It's not like we have to carry any heavy machines."

"I guess," Gordon replied, straightening his sash. "It still feels weird taking a space ship on a short hop like this. I mean, California isn't that far away."

"My 'bird is definitely the fastest thing we've got. It's a good thing that International Rescue has connections with the World Space Agency. They're clearing all traffic at Edwards Air force Base for Thunderbird Three to land, then jetting us to San Jose.." Alan, fully dressed, turned to his brother. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah. Brains is already aboard Three," Gordon said and paused. "I wonder what happened to them. I hope they're okay."

"We'll find out soon," Alan said.

TBTBTBTBTBTBTBTB 

Scott woke to the smell of a distillery. He couldn't remember going out drinking with his brothers but he sure felt like it; must have passed out. He tried to move and his head began thumping. Hang over? He cracked open an eye and it all came back.

He was lying in a pile of boards and lathe with…ouch…broken glass. The hand he'd just cut was bleeding and he stanched it against his uniform. He coughed and then choked on the heavy dust, feeling his ribs twinge with the effort.

"Virgil! Can you hear me?" he called but his brother didn't answer. Instead he heard a female voice.

"Hello!" said the female voice. "Where are you? I'm Mary. Who are you?"

Scott tried to remember who that was..oh yeah, the 'professional medium'. She'd been right after that reporter. Right. Mary…Mary Kessler. "I'm Scott. Mary, if you can move some of these boards away I'd be very grateful," Scott said. "Watch out for broken glass, though."

"Oh, I know about the broken glass," she said. He could feel some of the boards shifting around him.

"Have you noticed the smell in here?" she asked conversationally while she carefully removed the pile, a board at a time. "I think we landed in the wine cellar. Mrs. Winchester had it boarded up after the 1906 quake and it was lost."

Scott reflected that she was using the same calming techniques he did while rescuing potentially hysterical victims. Nothing like chatty, cheerful talk to take their minds off the jeopardy they were in. He held one hand overhead to keep more debris from landing on his head, then tried moving his legs. To his relief, he was able to move them and felt open space at the end of one foot.

"That's got you!" she said with satisfaction in her voice. "I'm going to try to pull your legs and slide you out. Are you ready?"

"Yeah, give it a shot!" Scott called back and felt himself sliding. He pushed away the debris that threatened to fall on him and finally scrambled out of the pile.

He emerged, covered in dust and dirt, to see the blonde woman standing there with wine bottle in one hand and lantern in the other.

"There's no water here, but have some..uh" she read the label. "Château d'Yquem, 1895. I don't know much about wine, but it's pretty tasty."

Pretty tasty? It was one of the finest vintage French wines in the world. Scott took a swig and looked around. "Where's Virgil? Did he fall when the floor went?"

"I don't know," she replied. "I haven't seen him." She pulled a half broken chair off the debris pile and set it down onto the stone floor. "Why don't you sit down. You look all in."

Scott couldn't disagree with her and sat down. He took the bottle when she offered and had to admit it was good wine. He looked around the cavernous space they occupied. He saw dozens of crevices, each holding a bottle. Even more had rolled out to smash on the floor. "So that's why it smells one hundred eighty proof in here," he said. "The quakes must have brought the bottles out."

"Not all of them, fortunately," she sat down in her own ornate half-ruined chair, took another swig and smiled. "It's been quite a day, you must admit."

"Yeah," Scott said, still looking around and not finding any escape routes. The ceiling was an empty darkness. Maybe he could make his watch work and call for help. "Scott to Thunderbird Five.." he said hopefully. This time the watch didn't even light up. "Damn…" he said softly.

"That's not too surprising," Mary said.

"Huh?" Scott looked up and at her. "What do you mean?"

"Haunted houses drain batteries," she said placidly. "The spirits use the energy to manifest themselves. You've been having trouble with your electronics today, haven't you?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, we have," Scott said. "But the lantern is still working."

"It has an atomic battery," she said. "Hard to drain that but it could still happen." She gave him a sharp look. "I hate to say this, but the House has an interest in you and your brother."

Scott replied, "Right. The house. Not a ghost?"

"Oh, come now, you've noticed it already, haven't you?" she set the bottle down on the floor. "You strike me as a very perceptive man. You have more than a touch of the gift."

"You telling me I'm a medium?" Scott grabbed the bottle and drank some more.

"Not exactly," Mary replied. "You are sensitive and perceptive. I imagine you have the ability to react to disaster immediately and intuitively? Think of it as a split second or two of precognition that helps you respond to trouble. I imagine it's useful in your line of work."

Scott sighed. "Didn't help today." His gaze sharpened. "Now what do you mean the House has an interest in me and my brother?"

"The House, this house collects people. It has for a hundred years," she said. "At any rate, that's my take on it. Sarah Winchester certainly was obsessively tied to this place. It killed her."

"I thought she died of natural causes," Scott shot back. "Old age."

"She died here. I guess her constant building wasn't enough to keep the house from taking her," Mary replied just as directly. "It wasn't appeased. She died."

Scott couldn't believe this. He was trapped in a basement with a nut. "You mean this house is trying to kill me?" He paused, remembering the chandelier and his feelings of unease since they'd stepped through the ornate front door.

"Could be. You or your brother. I can't tell which. You two are very close, aren't you?" Mary shook her head. "Any unusual experiences or anything since you've been inside the house?"

Scott looked away, not meeting her eyes. "Nothing that couldn't be explained scientifically."

"Right. Science explains everything, doesn't it?" she replied, taking another drag from the bottle. "Too bad. It's all gone," she said and tossed the bottle with a crash onto Scott's debris pile. "Let's just say I don't plan to stand too close to you for the next several hours in case I get caught when the House takes you."


	4. Chapter 4

Earthquake—Chapter 4

Scott turned to the "professional medium" and said angrily, "You're crazy! Houses don't kill people."

She gave him a sympathetic look. "This one does. Oh look, a bottle of Chateau Lafite-Rothschild 1899. With a name that long, it must be good." She rose and pulled it from the wall and began struggling with the cork.

"Let me," said Scott and pulled out a Swiss Army knife, finding the cork puller and applying it to the bottle, feeling a rib twinge while he yanked at the cork. "Here you are," he said, a bit breathlessly, handing it to Mary. He studied the pocket knife and its attachments, wishing that any of the technology he'd brought with him had worked. Virgil had given him the Swiss Army knife when he joined the Air Force, saying that he thought Scott might find it useful. He had, multiple times. He folded it away and put it back in his pocket.

Virgil. What had happened to him? Was he upstairs trying to get them out? Or was he dead under a pile of lumber?

He leaned forward on the chair and sighed, then asked, "Look, you're a psychic…can you tell me what happened to my brother Virgil?"

She took a deep swig of the wine and delicately wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "I haven't the faintest idea, I'm sorry. I tend to read best when the subject is nearby. Like you, for example." She set the bottle down. "I don't know if you're the type the House would want. Maybe it's your brother after all."

"What do you mean?" Scott held his temper down firmly. This was ridiculous, and yet…he'd take any port in a storm and by now it was raining cats and dogs.

"Well, you're not the cultured sort, not really," she replied. "Oh, I'm sure you know your wines and a bit about art, but you're more interested in machinery and action. Your brother," she waved her hand in a flapping motion. "I got more of an artistic bent when I met him. The House likes that sort of thing." She studied his worried face. "You two are pretty close, aren't you? You aren't twins, but you might as well be." She took another swig. "Could be he's the one and not you. All I can say is the House is in a hungry mood. ThatI got real clear."

"If the House kills people, why are you here?" Scott asked, honestly curious. "Aren't you afraid it'll take you?"

"I'll tell ya," she said, her eyes gleaming a bit. "Publicity, any publicity is good in my trade. It brings in the rubes…I mean clients. I decided to take the risk and spend the night here being filmed by Terri Kawamura. Hell, If I didn't sense anything I could always make something up, y'know?" She glanced around the dark vault. "I couldn't have made up what happened tonight."

**Television Broadcast**

**Terri Kawamura, Special Report**

"I am here, in front of the ruins of the Winchester Mystery House where I and thirteen other people narrowly escaped death tonight, thanks to the sacrifice of the brave men of International Rescue." She wiped away a tear and gestured behind her to the collapsed roof and porch of the house front; bright lights had been brought in and were trained on the wreckage.

"It is my understanding that International Rescue has dispatched two more of its operatives to try to rescue their bold comrades, but time has passed since the front of the house collapsed in on them. Will they arrive in time? Can they save their….Dammit, Bill, what happened to the transmission?" demanded the news anchor.

The cameraman, fussing with the camera, shrugged. "I don't know, Terri. All I can tell you is that it's stopped working and everything we taped is gone…"

"Uh, I'm sorry to interrupt," said a blonde young man in a blue uniform. "Would you be Terri Kawamura? The one who was rescued from the house tonight?" The blonde man gave her a million watt smile and Terri found herself smiling back. Then she noticed the uniform and the two other men standing quietly behind him. She noted that one had auburn hair and the third wore nerdy blue eye glasses.

"Oh, you must be from International Rescue! I'd love to interview you but my equipment seems to have broken," she found herself sinking into the brilliance of that smile.

The third man, with the glasses, broke the reverie. "Ah…We don't give interviews, Ms. Kawamura. Your equipment isn't broken, we have a device activated to prevent transmissions or pictures of us from being disseminated, uh..that's all."

"Oh, I see," she said, not sure whether she should be angry or not. International Rescue's unreasonable policy about publicity was well-known.

"We'd really like to ask you some questions about the rescue," the charming blonde man broke in. "We had lost contact with our ..um..colleagues for some time before you were rescued, so we need more information about what happened. Would you mind giving us a few moments of your time?"

Terri gave them both a sparkling smile. "Why, yes, I'd be glad to help…"

**Half an hour later**

"Terri said that Scott was right behind her when everything fell in," Alan spoke with his father. "We plan to use the backhoe to remove as much debris as possible, then search for Virgil and Scott."

"All right, Alan, but be careful. Any of them could be trapped underneath the debris you're plowing through." Jeff Tracy paused and took another sip of his cold coffee. "And you're certain that Ms. Kawamura can't broadcast anything?

"Yes sir," Alan replied. "Brains has extended the radius of the portable field generator. She won't be taking any pictures or sending any transmissions unless she goes a mile away."

"Good. Keep me posted on developments," Jeff said and signed off.

"Okay, Brains, go ahead and start her up!" Alan called to Brains in the cab of the mini back-hoe. While Brains shifted rubble, both Tracy's worked ahead of the machine, searching for victims with infrared scanners.

Alan pointed the infrared monitor at the pile. They were inside the house, with two stories of emptiness above them. "Hey, this thing's dying on me," Alan tapped at the reader. "Damn." He shook his head and continued to remove debris.

After a few minutes, Alan saw something glowing green in the wreckage. He leaned in and pulled out a black glove with glowing, skeletal fingers and felt his blood run cold. He called out over his shoulder, "Gord, I think I have something!"

Gordon crowded next to his brother and gulped when he saw the glove, then eyed the big pile of debris in front of them. "He's under that, somewhere," he said, plucking the glove from his brother's fingers. "We have to go carefully from here on in," he said, eyeing the pile of lumber ahead."

Alan walked back to tell Brains about the glove. To his surprise, as soon as he moved away from the house, the monitor sprang back to life. Alan looked nervously over his shoulder at the looming bulk of the house. Okay then. He had an idea. "Never mind, Brains!" he called up to the cab, then walked back to the ruins of the front porch.

Careful to stay out of the house's shadow, he lit up the scanner and pointed it at the house. "Gordon! I've got two readings, straight ahead and down." He paused. "There's a third, fainter, further in. They're alive."

It took longer for the two of them to move forward, trying hard not to shift anything. Since the infrared didn't work, they did it the old fashioned way, by inserting narrow rods into the pile to look for crevices.

Finally, Alan found himself near the edge of a hole in the floor. Once they'd cleared the redwood beams lying across it, he leaned forward with a flashlight trained down into it…..

Scott sat upright, hearing the sound of a familiar engine. He stood and pressed his ear to the stone wall. It sounded like the mini back-hoe Virgil had brought in Thunderbird Two. They'd decided not to use it since there had been an accessible entrance to the house. He felt the wall shaking a bit and a rumbling noise, then his face split into a grin. Maybe it was Virgil. In any case, International Rescue was trying to rescue him.

The calm field commander persona dropped over Scott. "We'd better back up against the far wall. I think they're removing what's left of the front porch and hallway area. Don't want to get hit by falling bricks."

She picked up the lantern and her bottle, then joined him at the back wall. After a while the rumbling stopped and they could hear pounding and sawing from overhead. Several boards dropped to the floor and first a flashlight, and then a blonde head poked through the ceiling, forty feet up.

"Hello! Anybody here? Scott?" Alan shouted, squinting into the darkness.

"Alan! I've never been so glad to see you in my life!" Scott shouted back. "There's two of us down here! Can you let down a rope or something?"

Alan grinned, his face lighting up. "Fath….Base will sure be glad we found you two!"

"Wait a minute," Scott said. "Virgil isn't here, I thought he was with you. I've got Mary Kessler, one of the tourists here." C'mon, Alan, remember security protocols.

Alan frowned as he lowered a rope down. "We haven't seen him at all. So he's still somewhere inside?"

"I guess so," Scott said worriedly. "If he'd gotten out, you'd know already."

First Mary, then Scott were hauled up out of the basement. Alan took one look at his older brother and made a face. "Phew! Scott, you stink like a bar!"

Scott smiled in relief. "Think wine cellar, Al. I had the luck to fall into Mrs. Winchester's wine cellar, lost for over a hundred years."

He noted, with amusement, that Mary still had her bottle of fine wine, recorked and tucked under her arm.

"Are you okay?" Alan asked. "You don't look too bad."

"Nothing too serious," Scott replied. "I may have cracked a rib. Go work on getting Virgil out. He's more important."

Alan eyed Scott dubiously, but went back to work with Gordon.

Mary looked down at her bottle and chuckled. "Well," she said. "It's a souvenir, y'know." She paused. "You're gonna go find your brother now, I guess."

"I'll do my best, Mary," Scott replied. Just then, they heard Gordon's shout.

"Hey, look there!" Gordon had called out. Scott rushed to a corner of the hallway and saw a bit of blue boot projecting out. "That's him!" Gordon said and began digging furiously, with Scott and Alan taking their places beside him.

When they uncovered him, Virgil was unconscious, his face very pale. "Get the back board and medi-kit," Gordon called out, his eyes intent on his brother.

Alan ran back, followed by Brains, with the medical supplies. As they arrived, they heard Gordon swear under his breath. "Shit. Shit. Shit….pupils are full and non-responsive…Blood pressure's going to hell…Get him on the backboard NOW!"

Gordon moved aside to let Brains take the lead. "A-all right, lift him on three.." Brains said and the brothers moved Virgil onto the float pallet. Swiftly, they moved him past the hole in the floor and out of the house. Virgil had his first seizure when they took him down the steps.

Scott, Gordon and Brains held him down as best they could, while Alan called Thunderbird Five.

"John! Find us the closest hospital with a brain trauma unit!," Alan shouted into his watch. "Hurry!"

John's concerned face looked up at his little brother. "That would be…Santa Clara Valley Medical Center. Who is it? Scott or Virgil?"

Alan swallowed hard. "It's Virgil. We'll transport him in Thunderbird Two. Can you tell Dad?"

John nodded. "I'll tell him. Transmitting directions to TB2. Keep me posted," and signed out.

While the International Rescue personnel rushed the float pallet over to the parking lot and Thunderbird Two, Mary Kessler followed behind. She had had her suspicions about the nature of the IR men and hearing the word "Dad" had only confirmed it. Brothers. She guessed that the one with glasses wasn't related, but he might as well be. She eyed the one on the pallet and sighed.

She caught up to Scott as they were loading Virgil into the pod for transport. "Scott," she said and caught at his arm.

"Yeah? Mary?" Scott was torn between Virgil and this woman.

"I just want to say that I'm sorry," she said with pity in her voice. "It's taken him."

Scott stopped in his tracks. "What?"

"The House. It has what it wants and it wasn't you. I'm sorry." She reiterated.

"You can't tell me that a house can…that Virgil's…" Scott's voice broke and he looked at her in disbelief. "No. That isn't going to happen. He'll get the best medical care in the world."

She sighed at this strong, confident young man. "I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry for your loss. And to thank you for rescuing all of us." She patted him on the shoulder and walked away into the darkness.

At the hospital, Scott was glad that John had called ahead to arrange for a secure wing for International Rescue. But of course, he reflected, that was why John was on the space station. He was calm and unflappable, even during dire emergency.

At Brains' insistence, Scott had been seen and x-rayed. He had a broken rib and was given pain-killers which he promptly tucked into his pocket and forgot about.

He took up his spot in the waiting area while Virgil was in surgery. Alan, Gordon and Brains had left. Gordon to fly Alan to Edwards Air force Base to retrieve Thunderbird Three, Brains to fly Thunderbird One home. The rest of the family would be coming back together, probably on a Tracy jet.

His watch lit up and he answered. "Scott, how is it going?" asked his father.

"He's still in surgery," Scott replied. "They're going to try a new nano-technology to...to repair the brain damage." He rubbed at his eyes and cleared his throat, but his voice still quavered. "They say things don't look very hopeful, Dad. You should get here as fast as you can."

Jeff's eyes widened a bit. "We'll get there as fast as we can, then. How are you doing, son?"

"Me?" Scott gave a derisive laugh. "Oh, I'm fine. The house didn't want _me_."

"Excuse me? I didn't catch that," Jeff replied, sounding a bit worried.

"Nothing, Dad. Just something somebody said. Just get here, as soon as you can," Scott replied and shut his watch down.

Later, when they moved Virgil into Intensive Care, Scott took up a seat next to his bed. Virgil was on multiple IV's and a ventilator.

Scott was frustrated that there was nothing he could do but sit here and wait. But what he could do, he would. For as long as necessary.

To Scott's irritation, the nurses kept trying to feed him, give him coffee, even offered him a bed to sleep in. Scott just glared at them and finally they left him alone. At last the sheer weariness conquered him and he dozed off.

He was awakened later by the sound of footsteps and a hand laid gently on his shoulder.

"Father?" he said, groggily.

"I'm here, son," said Jeff Tracy, moving a chair next to his. "How is he doing?"

Scott shook his head. "No change. The doctor said that if the treatment worked it would happen quickly. It hasn't, yet." He took a shaky breath. "How'd you get here so fast?"

Jeff replied, his eyes moving from Scott to Virgil and back again. "How do you think? Gordon flew me in with your 'bird. Alan's picking up John and will bring the rest of the family in Virgil's...ahem..aircraft."

"But, Dad…security..?" Scott protested softly.

"You said to get here fast. That's the best way I know of. Don't worry, we're parked…discreetly." Jeff took a good look at this son for the first time. "You've been here the whole time, haven't you? You're injured yourself. Gordon's outside, let him take you to the hotel and you get some rest."

"But Dad, I.." Scott argued feebly.

"No argument," Jeff replied. "I'll call you if you're needed."


	5. Chapter 5

Earthquake Chapter 5

Gordon drove Scott to the hotel and stood over him until he went to bed. To his surprise, sleep wasn't long in coming, and he had a strange dream. He saw the Winchester House, in one piece with two extra stories to it. It was surrounded by gracious gardens and orchards. Looking closer, he found himself in a richly appointed sitting room and saw…Virgil? In an old-fashioned suit, seated in a cushioned velvet chair….

"Would you like some more tea?" the older woman in the ornate gown gestured to the china teapot.

Virgil smiled and handed her his teacup and saucer, admiring the design on the Wedgewood cup. "The muffins are wonderful," he commented. "And I haven't had jam this good in years."

"Well, we grow our own fruit here in the orchard," she replied. "The strawberries grow wild on strawberry hill. That's why the jam is so good. Of course, I got the recipe from my late mother-in-law, Mother Winchester." The small woman nibbled at a piece of cake. "And are you enjoying your stay with us so far, Mr. Tracy?"

Virgil looked around the beautiful room. The sunlight shone through the multiple tiffany windows, making the fine wood paneling glow in multiple colors. He shifted on the padded velvet chair. "Why, I don't know when I've stayed anywhere finer…ah…I think I used to live in the tropics…" He nervously adjusted the tie at his celluloid collar. Somehow, he didn't recall ever wearing anything like this before, but for the life of him couldn't recall what else he'd ever worn.

"Oh yes," Mrs. Winchester replied, handing back his cup. "But that's all over now. You're welcome to stay as long as you like. I'm planning an addition to the house and I could use your advice. I'm also considering some William Morris wallpaper designs. What do you think?"

Another, younger and tinier woman arrived, wearing a brown lace dress and sat in an armchair near the fire.

"Why Valerie, how good to see you again. Mr. Virgil Tracy, this is Miss Valerie Rodriguez. She recently arrived as well."

"Hello Mr. Tracy," Valerie smiled prettily and offered her hand to Virgil. "Isn't this a beautiful house? I'm so glad Mrs. Winchester invited me to stay. I just can't believe how lucky I am!" She took the cup of tea that Mrs. Winchester had poured and went on. "And do you have any family, Mr. Tracy?"

Virgil searched his memories. The house, he clearly remembered. Anything before that was incredibly hazy. "No…no, I don't think…I don't recall," he laughed. "Isn't it silly. I'm having such a good visit here that I'm forgetting all about everything else."

Mrs. Winchester gave out the tinkling laugh of her girlhood. "Well, I've never been so complimented! Mr. Tracy, I am so glad you're with us. I recently installed some new tiffany windows in the ballroom. I should like your opinion of them. Shall we go downstairs?"

Scott tried to move toward his brother and grab his arm, but to no effect. Finally, he began calling, trying to get his attention. "Virgil! Virg! Hey, Virgil! It's Scott!" He watched helplessly as Virgil took the older woman's arm and moved out of the room. "Virgil! Come back!" Scott yelled at last in desperation, then heard his own name called.

"Scott? Scott! Wake up!"

Scott opened his eyes and looked around wildly. Alan was shaking his shoulder, worry on his face. "Scott, will you wake up, please…!"

Scott gulped for breath. "Alan..what the…where…?"

"You're in the hotel room. You were having some kind of nightmare," Alan said anxiously. "I heard you calling for Virgil."

Scott sat up and pushed his legs over the side of the bed, oofing a little when his rib twinged. He rubbed his gritty eyes and said, "I saw Virgil…in that house. Could you believe he was taking tea with Mrs. Winchester?" Scott snorted. "Man, I know it's been a rough twenty-four hours but I never expected this."

"Are you gonna be okay now?" asked Alan, still looking a bit frightened.

Scott gave him a tired smile. "Yeah, I'm okay. Thanks for waking me, Al. Any word on Virgil?"

"Dad's calling in a couple of experts. The doctors here," Alan folded his arms over his chest and tucked his chin down, a posture Scott recognized from a young and scared little brother. Alan took a breath and went on "The doctors here want to disconnect Virgil's life support. They say he's…he's brain..brain dead." Alan choked up and tears began running down his face.

Scott stood up and hugged his little brother close. "That's why Dad's getting other, better doctors, Alan," he said softly. "Dad hasn't given up on Virg yet and neither will we. It's going to be okay."

"All right, Scott. If you say so," Alan said, scrubbing at his face with his hands. "Anyway, Grandma left you a change of clothes. She said she figured that she'd have to burn your uniform if you've been wearing it for two days." Alan pointed to a pile of folded clothing on the dresser.

Scott smiled a bit. "She did not! Anyway, I'm glad she packed regular clothes and not another uniform. I don't' want to publicize International Rescue wherever I go." He picked up the clothing and wandered into the shower, then dressed in the clothes Grandma had chosen, donning a blue t-shirt, soft jeans and boots. Any clothing would have done, but Grandma said she always liked him in blue. "Okay, I'm ready for the day I suppose."

Alan nodded. "Dad said I have to make you eat something before you come out to the hospital." He grinned. "And I have the authority to enforce it; If you don't eat, I get Thunderbird One for a month."

Scott recoiled in mock horror. "Well, I'll have to eat if I want to save my paint job!" He put an arm around Alan's shoulder and they went into the common room.

**NG-TV Transmission**

**Terri Kawamura; Standing in front of Santa Clara Valley Medical Center**

"A mournful hush has descended on the hospital this morning as the prognosis comes in for the fallen International Rescue member known only as 'Virgil'. Rescued yesterday, with his colleague 'Scott' from the ruins of the Winchester Mystery House, this hero, 'Virgil' lies at the gates of death, my sources reveal. This heroic young man rescued 15 people, including myself, from certain death and is losing his own life for ours. I'm told that other members of International Rescue have gathered to bid him farewell….." Terri's face was solemn and she bowed her head, her hand (out of camera range) swished back and forth in a 'cut' motion.

"Dad, can't you do anything to shut that woman up?" demanded John, stationed in front of the television set in the hospital waiting room.

"I'm sorry, John," Jeff Tracy sighed. "The First Amendment says no. We've put up with her before and we probably will again." He got up from the couch and went into Virgil's room, standing in the doorway.

He was almost as worried about his first-born as he was about Virgil. Scott sat in the same chair, having taken up his post beside Virgil's bed after breakfast and wouldn't be pried out of it. Finally, the rest of the family had let him stay and rotated in and out throughout the day. Well, at least Scott had eaten today; he was grateful to Alan for watching over his brother.

He wished the meeting with the specialist had gone as well. He hadn't broken it to the rest of the family yet, but the famous doctor's prognosis was the same as the first. Jeff ran rubbed his eyes, his other arm folded across his chest. He wasn't going to give up yet. One more doctor. There must be something out there for Virgil.

Scott knew that his father was watching him, but paid no attention. He hung on to Virgil's free hand and tried to focus on his brother. C'mon, Virg, he urged silently. Come back. Don't go! Don't you dare go.

He and Virgil had been close all their lives. Mom used to laugh that when Scott skinned his knee, Virgil said 'ouch'. He'd always sort of known how Virgil was feeling, just as Virgil always knew Scott's emotions. Didn't Virgil understand that he couldn't leave? Not and leave Scott behind…

The rest of the family floated in the background, unnoticed. Scott wondered about that dream, that weird dream. It had seemed so real. Wait a minute…he remembered the woman in the brown lace dress. Her face had looked familiar but he didn't recall it smiling. No. He'd helped pull her out of a pile of wreckage and carefully laid her body in the hallway. The tour guide. The woman in the brown dress was the tour guide.

His eyes blinked rapidly as he took it all in. Mary Kessler had said that the House collected people. Had it collected the tour guide too? Crap. Was that medium right, after all? No. That was impossible. It couldn't be…

"Scott?" his father said softly. "How are you doing?"

"Okay, I guess," Scott said, knowing where this was going. "How's Virgil? What does the doctor say?"

"Dr. Snowe has examined Virgil today but had nothing to add to the regular doctors here. I'm going to ask a different man, a specialist to look him over as well. I understand that Dr. MacDonald has pioneered some new brain treatments. He'll be in tomorrow to take a look at him." Jeff made eye contact with his eldest son. "I haven't given up yet, and I don't want you to either. Okay?"

"Okay, Dad," Scott said with a weak smile and resumed his post.

Throughout the day he was aware of being watched by his brothers. Gordon might bring him a bottled water or Alan offer him some potato chips. Scott tried not to be rude, but mostly ignored them, keeping his attention focused on Virgil. Evening arrived and the Tracy family got ready to return to the hotel. Jeff just looked at his eldest son, napping in his chair and shook his head. "Let him stay," he said softly and closed the door.

Scott had learned to sleep through the movements of the nurses and doctors and didn't waken when they came to tend to Virgil. Night came and the lights were dimmed and Scott slept in his chair. He didn't see the pair of intruders tiptoeing into the room at 4 a.m. He woke groggily, hearing a voice speaking.

"All right, Bill and…action! Hello, I'm Terri Kawamura bringing you a report directly from the hospital room of the injured International Rescue man at Valley Medical Center. This hero, who has saved countless others, nevertheless couldn't save himself…"

Scott stood up, his eyes blazing. "What are you doing here?" he demanded.

Terri turned and saw the 'other' International Rescue member. "Oh, you're Scott! I didn't know that anyone else was in here… I'm so sorry about your friend. I understand that not much hope is held out for his recovery. That must make you feel terrible—Would you like to talk about it?…" She squeaked as Scott charged forward and knocked the camera to the floor. The cameraman took one look at the other man's enraged face and backed out of the room as fast as he could.

Picking up the camera, Scott made sure that it was turned off and all content erased, then threw it onto the floor. He then cornered Terri, who had backed into the side of Virgil's bed.

Scott just stood there, glaring at her, fists clenched. Finally he took a deep breath and asked, "Why?" in an unsteady voice.

"Uh…what?" asked the reporter.

"Why are you persecuting us? What have we ever done except try to save lives? My…best friend…is dying." Scott took a long, ragged breath and continued. "You have hurt good people who have never done you any harm but you don't stop dogging us. Why? Is it for the money? For the _entertainment_?" He spat the words out. "Why can't you leave us alone and let Virg go in peace?"

"Why…I'm a fan of International Rescue," Terri said nervously. "You rescued me and others. People like to know about you; they admire you."

"I don't think this is about admiration," Scott said, approaching his brother's bedside, pushing her out of the way. "We're a commodity to you. This man," he indicated his brother. "Has saved more lives than you will ever know about. We don't advertise our work, but we're there when we're needed. You'd drag us down into the mud just for the _entertainment_value." By this time, tears were running down Scott's face. "Get out and take your camera with you. You've already hurt people I love and I won't let you cause any more grief."

Terri Kawamura grabbed her camera and scuttled out of the room. The sun was just rising as Scott sat by his brother's bedside and sobbed quietly by himself.

Jeff Tracy found him there several hours later, asleep, his head laid on his folded arms. As he moved toward his eldest son he could hear him muttering under his breath, "Virg…no! Don't stay, come back….You have to come back…You can't stay there…."

"Son?" Jeff said softly. "Scott?"

Scott's eyes opened slowly and when he focused on his father, he tried to sit up straight. "Hi, Dad. What time is it?"

"Just about ten a.m.," Jeff said. "I have Doctor MacDonald to see Virgil. Why don't you go downstairs and have some coffee." Jeff looked over his shoulder. "John! Would you take your brother downstairs and buy him breakfast?"

John immediately came into the room and led a groggy Scott out. John knew Scott was in bad shape because he hadn't complained once about being consigned to the care of a younger brother as his baby-sitter. "C'mon, Scott," John said gently. "They do a decent breakfast downstairs."

Scott just followed and sat down at the table John pointed to. Gordon and Alan were already in place, watching their oldest brother nervously. John set down breakfasts for each of them and pushed a large coffee at Scott. "Drink your caffeine, Scott. It'll help."

Scott just stared at his meal, not attempting to eat or drink anything. Finally he said, "Do you know who sneaked past security last night?"

His brothers' eyebrows raised in alarm. "Who?" John demanded.

Scott took a sip of coffee, winced and put it down. "Terri Kawamura tried to do an exclusive from Virgil's room. I kicked her out; her and her cameraman. Oh and the camera, too. I don't think she'll bother us again."

"What did you do, kill her?" Alan demanded.

"No," Scott sighed. "No. But I think maybe she realizes that we're people now." He sipped the coffee again. Virgil was slipping away and he couldn't' do anything about it.

**That Evening**

Jeff Tracy thanked Dr. MacDonald and walked him to his car. There was no denying Virgil's prognosis. Three different doctors, each a specialist in his field, had pronounced the same fate for his son. Virgil's brain had stopped functioning; even the most basic needs were being handled by machines.

As he walked back into Virgil's room, he found Scott in his chair again. He truly feared what would happen to this son when he gave him the news. "Son?" Scott looked up to see his father bent over him.

Jeff sat down next to Scott and put an arm around his shoulder. "I've had a talk with the doctor. He says…" his voice failed, then picked up again. "He says that Virgil's gone. Machines are keeping him alive, but Virgil…is…He wants us to make a decision…" Jeff turned away from his son and stared into the distance.

"Dad, you can't," Scott said desperately. "We can't just let him go!"

"We have to, son," Jeff said firmly. "We can't condemn him to…to this. There's no brain function left besides some autonomic responses. He's left us already; his body just hasn't caught up yet."

"No," Scott got up, both hands curled into fists. "You aren't going to let them kill my brother."

"Scott, this isn't a question of killing him," Jeff said softly. "He's not here anymore; he's not coming back to us. Tomorrow…afternoon…we're all going to say goodbye to Virgil and let him go." Jeff eyed his son. "Scott…"

Scott looked at his father blankly then got up and stumbled away from Virgil's bedside, ran past the assembled Tracys in the waiting area and out the front door of the hospital. Panting harshly for breath, he couldn't escape his father's words.

He remembered watching Virgil sleep when he was a little kid. After Mom had died, Virg had nightmares for weeks. Scott had to climb into bed with him to keep them away. Virg had been a target for bullies in school; anybody with that much artistic talent was a sitting duck.

Finally, after Virg had come home with another black eye, Scott had gone to school with him and explained to the bullies very carefully why it wasn't good to bother a Tracy. The bullies had limped away, agreeing that they didn't want to bully Virgil Tracy ever again.

Scott shut his eyes, fighting the tears. He wasn't ready to say good bye. He wasn't ready. He was the oldest; he should die first. He looked back at the hospital through blurry eyes and remembered every moment of this ill-fated, horrible rescue. If not for that blasted house, Virgil would still be here, really here.

"Scott?" John's voice came from behind him. "Are you okay?"

"No," said Scott, not turning around. "I'm not okay. Has Father told you about what they have planned for Virg tomorrow?"

"Yeah," said John in a soft voice. "Scott, you're not the only one grieving. He's our brother, too."

"I know," Scott said, turning around. "But he died on my watch."

"There wasn't a damned thing you could have done to prevent it and you know it," John said angrily. "Self-pity doesn't become you, big brother."

"Is that what you think it is?" Scott asked sadly. "I couldn't help him. I couldn't save him. There's nothing I can do now for him. I feel so damned helpless…" He stood silently for a moment. "Did you know that medium…Mary Whatshername…said that the House was hungry and was going to kill one of us? Ever hear anything so ridiculous?" Scott ran an arm over streaming eyes. "Now something like that I could handle. Monsters, I can fight. People, I can rescue. This…John, they're going to kill him tomorrow…"


	6. Chapter 6

Earthquake Chapter 6 

This time all three brothers stood over Scott, making sure he went to bed and slept. Scott tried to wait them out, but fell asleep despite himself.

This time, Virgil was alone in a music room playing a grand piano. Scott drifted closer, listening to Virg play his favorite Gershwin piece. For a wonder, Virg actually looked up and saw him.

"Scott?" Virgil said, his forehead crinkling. "Where have you been?"

"You know me?" Scott asked in surprise. "You see me?"

"Yeah. Shouldn't I?" Virgil responded. "Nice piano, isn't it. Better than my piano at home." Virgil looked around. "Where are we, anyway?'

Scott looked around but didn't see anyone. "Virgil, look, I think we're in the Winchester House. Do you remember that last earthquake? When the ceiling came down on top of us?"

Virgil stopped playing and thought for a moment. "I think I remember something like that."

"You got hit on the head, but good. Virg, you're in the hospital on life support with a traumatic brain injury." Scott squatted down next to Virgil's piano bench and looked into his brother's placid eyes. "That medium said the House was hungry and wanted to keep one of us." Scott's eyes sharpened. "That would be you, little brother. It wants you. You have to get out of here or you're here forever."

"What?" Virgil said. He stopped playing, closed the keyboard and leaned on it. "You're kidding, right?"

"We don't have any time, Virgil," Scott said quickly, glancing around. "They could come back any minute. You have to try to remember me, the family, the island, home. I think you forget when Mrs. Winchester is here. You've got to fight it before they turn off your life support."

"Why would they do that?" asked Virgil calmly. Scott wanted to shake him.

"They are gonna pull the plug on you because you're brain dead, you idiot!" Scott shouted. "You have to fight it and come back to us."

"That's very interesting," said Virgil, turning back to his piano. "I'll think about it."

"Dammit Virgil, you'll do more than think about it," Scott yelled and began pummeling his little brother. "Get the hell out of here! Come back!" Scott backed up and began yelling at the Winchester House. "Give me back my brother, damn you! Give him back!" 

John closed the door to Scott's bedroom and pulled his brothers into the suite's living room. He sat down on the couch, Alan took the side chair and Gordon settled on the loveseat with his feet on the coffee table.

They stared at each other in silence until Gordon let out a long breath. "Oh God, what are we going to do?" he put his head in his hands.

"Yeah," Alan agreed. "It's bad enough losing Virgil…and I don't know how I'm going to get through that, but…"

John nodded slowly. "Scott is seriously losing it. When Virgil goes, I don't know how we're going to pick up the pieces if Scott self-destructs."

Gordon looked up at his older brother. "You don't think Scott would try…anything…you know…"

"You mean kill himself?" asked Alan. His brothers stared at him and Alan added defensively, "Well, that's what you were all thinking! Let's face it, I've never seen him like this."

"I have," said John. "Only Scott was ten years old and couldn't do anything about it. When Mom died, Dad was a wreck and Scott felt like he had to take Dad's place. Now, he's a grown man and he still doesn't know how to handle grief."

"Do any of us?" asked Gordon miserably, meeting John's eyes.

"Scott feels the weight of the world on his shoulders even when things are going well but with Virgil gone…" John's eyes went bleak. "He's got Thunderbird One, the most powerful jet on the planet and he works a dangerous job. I don't know that he'd purposely kill himself, but if we were on a dangerous rescue and it was his life or the victim's…"

"We have to keep an eye on him," Gordon said. "I don't know, try to keep him sane somehow."

"You know just how easy that will be," Alan snorted. "Scott is bad enough when he's thinking clearly." He paused. "Do you hear that?"

Through the door of Scott's room they could hear muffled shouting. "It's another nightmare," said Alan softly. "He hasn't slept much since Virgil…well, anyway, he's been having a lot of them lately every time he goes to sleep."

"I'll go," said John. He got up and quietly opened Scott's bedroom door. His brother was in the bed, flailing his arms. He'd already knocked the covers off and the pillow soon followed.

"Scott….Scott wake up," said John, leaning over to shake him. "Scott!"

Scott sat bolt upright, panting, his eyes wide with terror. Gradually his breathing slowed as he realized that Alan and Gordon stood in the doorway with wide eyes and worried expressions. John, equally worried, gave his arm a shake and stepped back, letting him go.

Scott wiped his forehead with an arm and tried to laugh it off. "Sorry about that. I've been having nightmares lately. Probably too much hospital coffee." He grabbed his pillow back from John and stuffed it back onto the bed.

John nodded to Gordon and Allan, making a shooing motion with his hand. The two nodded and quickly left the room, closing the door behind them. John pulled up a chair next to Scott's bed.

"Oh, what is it now, John?" Scott asked. "Are you gonna play psychiatrist?"

"Do you need one?" John asked seriously.

"What do you mean?" Scott asked, his eyes narrowing.

"Scott, we're all mourning Virgil but you're falling apart, bro." John paused, trying to find the words that would make him listen. "We've all noticed it and Dad's worried sick about you."

"Why? What does he think I'll do?" Scott asked him. John just sat silently and gazed at his brother.

"Do I have to spell it out?" John said, finally. "He's afraid he's going to have to bury two of you, that's what. You're so fragmented, you could get yourself killed on a rescue like that!" he snapped his fingers

"Don't give me that," said Scott, bitterly. "I've carried the weight of my brothers' lives since the day we launched International Rescue. Don't I have the right to mourn my brother?"

"Not if you kill yourself or another brother while you're in mourning," said John. "You need some time to recover, and that's what I'm going to recommend to Father."

"What! You're going to make Dad take Thunderbird One away from me?" Scott shouted and jumped to his feet.

"You need to take some time, Scott, and find your balance again," John said firmly. "You're a danger to yourself until then." He got up and left the room, closing the door firmly behind him. 

Scott lay on the bed staring into the dark. He had to do something or Virgil would die tomorrow. No, he checked his watch, he'd die today. He had to do something and after talking to Virg in that dream or vision or whatever it was, he had an idea. He didn't think his brother was strong enough to pry himself away from that House. He didn't know when he'd decided that he believed what the medium had told him, but he was convinced now. And there was something he could do, but he'd have to do it alone. His brothers already doubted his sanity; this would make them throw away the key.

It was early morning now and the sun was just rising. Good. He could slip away and take care of this errand. He pulled off his International Rescue watch and looked at it a while, before he set it on the dresser. He didn't want a brother trying to talk him out of this. He dressed quietly, grabbed his wallet , a jacket and the keys to the rental car and tiptoed out of his room.

Once out of the suite, he broke into a run for the parking lot. As he was unlocking the car he heard feet pounding up behind him. He turned just as John came up behind him. "Going somewhere?" John panted.

"None of your business," Scott said sharply. "I'm going alone."

"What are you going to do, big brother?" John asked gently. "I need to know."

"Well, I'm not going off a cliff, if that's your concern," said Scott.

"Take me with you or I call Gordon and Alan and make this a real road trip," John said grimly. "And I'll even add Father and Brains to the mix. Between us we should be able to protect you from yourself."

Scott closed his eyes and counted to ten. Eyes still closed he said, "All right. You can come with me, but no calling the cavalry."

"Unless you give me a reason to," John agreed and seated himself in the passenger seat, carefully buckling his seat belts.

Scott warily got behind the driver's seat and buckled himself in. "Aren't you afraid I'm going to run us off a bridge or something?" he asked John sourly.

"No," John said complacently. "The only one you ever hurt is yourself." He folded his arms and stared calmly at his older brother. "I'm safe. You're safe."

Scott bit back the retort and started the car, then drove very sedately away from the hotel.

John was surprised at the first stop. "A Superstore?"

"It's a 24 hour store," Scott explained, getting out of the car. "Well, are you coming?"

To John's befuddlement, Scott bought a can of lighter fluid, a pack of matches and 2 fire extinguishers.

"What the...? Are you going to have a barbecue?" John asked as they walked back to the car.

"Something like that," Scott glinted. "You'll see."

They got back in the car and drove through the dawning city streets to a building that John hadn't yet seen up close. "That's the…"

"Yeah. The Winchester Mystery House," Scott said and parked the car in the empty lot.

The house had been boarded up since the quake but the damage hadn't been repaired yet. Scott picked up his shopping bag and made his way to the entrance to the house where they'd rescued him and Virgil, his face getting colder and colder as he approached.

John lagged behind and whispered into his watch, "John to Gordon and Alan…" Gordon's bleary face appeared.

"Huh? What is it?" Gordon asked.

"I'm at the Winchester House with Scott. Get here, fast!" John whispered urgently. "I don't know what he's gonna do, but this isn't gonna end well. Just GET here!"

He heard two FAB's and closed his watch down.

By the time he caught up to Scott, his brother had kindled a small bonfire with some of the quake wreckage. Scott faced the house, his face stony. Then he bent and picked up an old chair leg and looked around for something…."This looks appropriate," Scott said and picked up a scrap of yellow cloth. It was the sash from Virgil's uniform. He held it in his hand for a moment, then wrapped it around the chair leg. He upended the can of lighter fluid onto the cloth, soaking it. He dipped his makeshift torch into the bonfire, setting it alight. Holding the torch high, he approached the house while John watched in horror.

"All right, you monster!" Scott shouted. "I've had enough! Let my brother go or I'll burn you into a pile of charcoal!" He moved forward and brandished the torch at the doorway of the house. "Let him go, right now!" He paused, as though waiting for an answer. "You don't think I'm serious? Try me!"

Scott set a part of the porch alight and stepped back to enjoy his handiwork. John moved in and grabbed his brother's arm. "Scott—what in God's name are you doing?"

"Saving Virgil," Scott said fiercely. "The medium said it wanted one of us. But it can't have Virgil!" He pulled his arm away and dashed at the house, yelling. "Let him go, damn you! I swear nothing will keep me from burning you to the ground if you don't release him! Or take me if you need company so bad, but give…him…back!" He started to move forward into the house when John reached an arm around his waist and pulled him back off the porch.

Distantly, from inside the house, they both heard the sound of slamming doors, each slam leading progressively from the back of the house to the front, ending in a loud slam directly in front of them. The vibration made what was left of the porch fall in, right where Scott had been standing.

John heard tires squealing in the parking lot, then the sound of two sets of feet running. He looked behind him, arm still around his brother's waist and saw Alan and Gordon, thank God.

They skidded to a stop next to John and gaped. "Scott, what the heck are you doing?" Gordon demanded.

John shook his head. "Do you want to explain this, Scott?"

Scott shook off his brother's hand and backed toward the house, still holding the torch. All three brothers faced him, faces set and eyes intent on their oldest brother.

Scott backed slowly, still holding the flaming torch, until he stood at the wreckage of the porch. "Don't think you're gonna stop me," he said grimly. "You can stop me now, but I'll come back and if this monster doesn't let Virgil go, I'm gonna burn it to the ground and spit on the ashes." He turned his head over his shoulder and addressed the mansion. "Yeah! I mean you! Let him go or you burn, today or tomorrow, it doesn't matter. I will destroy you!" He turned and raised an arm to throw the torch.

That was what John was waiting for. He signaled his brothers and all three tackled Scott. Alan went low, Gordon for his brother's mid-section and John for the torch, trying to knock it out of Scott's hand.

Scott fought, punched, kicked and used every dirty trick he'd learned over the years, but was finally able to throw the torch at the house. As we went down in a pile-up, he was glad to hear the crackle of dry, seasoned wood burning. "I did it, Virg," he whispered softly. "C'mon, buddy, you've got to try. Get the hell out of there…."

When they pulled him upright, he could see John fondling his bloody nose, while Gordon sported a black eye. "What do we do now?" asked Alan breathlessly.

"Call Dad," said Scott promptly.

John turned on him. "Why? So we can confirm that what he's afraid of most is true? That you've flipped out?"

Scott gave John a fierce look. "Call Dad and have him check on Virgil."

"What?" John said, dumbfounded.

"Call Dad. See if Virgil is back yet," Scott shouted.

John met his brothers' eyes and slowly activated his watch. Dad needed to know about this in any case, but he hated to be the one to break it to him. "John to Base," he said, voice cracking a bit. "Dad? I have to tell you something…"

"Where are you?" came his father's voice. "You need to get here, fast! There's been a break in Virgil's condition."

John stared stupidly down at his father's face in the watch. "What? What break, Dad?"

"His brainwaves are normal; the doctors say they've never seen anything like it," Jeff Tracy grinned at his son. "He's conscious. He just woke up and he's asking for all of you." Jeff stopped and looked at John's expressionless face and bloody nose. "Where are you, anyway?"

"Um…Scott saw a small fire and thought he'd put it out. We came along to help. We'll be back in about half an hour. John out." John stared at his watch for a moment then whooped for joy.

"Did you hear that?" he bellowed, grabbing Gordon and Alan in a huge hug. "Virgil's gonna be okay! Dad wants us back at the hospital!"

Scott's face lit up and, grinning just as broadly, ran to his brothers and joined in the frantic hugging and whooping. Then he separated himself from the huddle and stationed himself back in front of the house and addressed it. "If you ever do anything like this again, if I hear that you've hurt anyone, taken anyone, I will personally come back and burn you to the ground!"

He grabbed the fire extinguisher and quickly put out the fire he'd started, then, with his brothers' help shoveled dirt onto the bonfire.

When they were sure that the fires were out, they piled into the cars and roared back to the hospital. 

If Jeff Tracy thought it odd that his four sons looked like they'd been in a fight, he said nothing about it. He was too happy sitting next to Virgil's bed, holding his son's living hand.

The hospital staff were remarkably tolerant at the loud whooping, hollering, yelling and general party atmosphere in Virgil's room. While his brothers made noise and clapped Virgil on the shoulder (gently), Scott just stood to one side, arms folded and his eyes glowing with joy.

Finally, Jeff rounded them all up to take them out for pizza. "I'm okay, Dad, I'll stay here with Virg," Scott said with a smile, his first real one in days. Jeff smiled back, relieved that he had this son back, too.

Scott sat in his accustomed chair at Virgil's bedside.

"So, did you really almost burn that house down?" Virgil asked. "Alan told me all about it. Don't worry, Dad won't hear it from me."

"They stopped me, remember? I didn't burn it down." Scott replied.

"You're evading the issue," Virgil said. "If I'd died, would you have burned it down?"

Scott just looked at his little brother and said nothing for a moment. "How much do you remember?"

Virgil shook his head. "I just remember the ceiling falling in and then nothing until I woke up here." He paused. "Scott, are you really sure about what that flaky medium said?"

Scott grinned. "I'm just happy I don't have to go commit arson, now."

**Epilogue**

6 months later, a smash bestseller hit the charts:

Tabloids and the Damage They Do,an Expose of the Tabloid News and the Lives They Ruin by Terri Kawamura

Author's Note: I have sadly defamed the Winchester Mystery House in this story. I've been there multiple times and have always found it a beautiful and welcoming house that positively likes people. At least, it's always welcomed me. And by the way, the chicken soup thing happened to me during a tour of the old kitchens. And no, it wasn't on the menu at the snack bar that day.


End file.
